Summer debut, for this three piece headed by Andrea Giommi, previously from Edible Woman, releasing this s/t work on cassette tape (!) and digital.
Precise, metronome drumming, a subtle hint of synths and electronics, swirling guitar riffs lost into the almost infinite level of feedback of delay pedals, cyclically L/R spanned and mirrored in your ears like a frozen image of a few seconds, reflected onto itself (The new order I pray to come).
Lonestar and The Lord are shaped as two memorable hit singles, if only this was a good world: both tinted with shades of calmed down 80s post punk (think to a sort of Love and Rockets as start point), where the first track begins with a majestic mid-tempo and dub bass part, to later suddenly stop to some elegant refrain and chorus, so harmoniously disarmingly; the latter one goes slowly paced and silently, walking up a crescendo of sanctity of sounds (I can feel it in the stomach, it weighs heavy on my bones, it's to pray the Lord, Giommi gravely sings).
Send peace is a one-way ticket for the outer space. Almost whispered, an intricate bass line, a bath of reverb for the guitars, before the choral finale.
The self-titled track, of the self-titled record of the self.. of The Emerald Leaves is buzzing while marching to your doorstep: pitch black, bitter, a palpable tension you expect to explode any moment, yet, it won't get any satisfaction (also, it abruptly stops beating).
I don't think there's anything similar in Italy with such this creative cut for experimenting with sounds and songwriting, something The Emerald Leaves know how to drive along the psychedelic, space rock boundaries of pop. Last but not least, there's the amazing sound-experimentalist Philippe Petit, enriching their tunes here and there, but we'll know more with an interview with The Emerald Leaves, hopefully soon.
But this record deserves a better support, maybe a vinyl? I'm waiting.
Precise, metronome drumming, a subtle hint of synths and electronics, swirling guitar riffs lost into the almost infinite level of feedback of delay pedals, cyclically L/R spanned and mirrored in your ears like a frozen image of a few seconds, reflected onto itself (The new order I pray to come).
Lonestar and The Lord are shaped as two memorable hit singles, if only this was a good world: both tinted with shades of calmed down 80s post punk (think to a sort of Love and Rockets as start point), where the first track begins with a majestic mid-tempo and dub bass part, to later suddenly stop to some elegant refrain and chorus, so harmoniously disarmingly; the latter one goes slowly paced and silently, walking up a crescendo of sanctity of sounds (I can feel it in the stomach, it weighs heavy on my bones, it's to pray the Lord, Giommi gravely sings).
Send peace is a one-way ticket for the outer space. Almost whispered, an intricate bass line, a bath of reverb for the guitars, before the choral finale.
The self-titled track, of the self-titled record of the self.. of The Emerald Leaves is buzzing while marching to your doorstep: pitch black, bitter, a palpable tension you expect to explode any moment, yet, it won't get any satisfaction (also, it abruptly stops beating).
I don't think there's anything similar in Italy with such this creative cut for experimenting with sounds and songwriting, something The Emerald Leaves know how to drive along the psychedelic, space rock boundaries of pop. Last but not least, there's the amazing sound-experimentalist Philippe Petit, enriching their tunes here and there, but we'll know more with an interview with The Emerald Leaves, hopefully soon.
But this record deserves a better support, maybe a vinyl? I'm waiting.
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